


tempus edax rerum

by rosejelly



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, i am just dum and gay do not come for me, not historically accurate in any sense, this is the knight au i've been thirsting for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosejelly/pseuds/rosejelly
Summary: Some supernatural things are not meant to be touched.Farah dared you, you accepted, which resulted in you accidentally time-travelling about nine centuries back and tumbling right into the lap of the most intimidating knight you've ever seen.ORi made up a whole storyline so i could write that one scene about knight!ava on her knees.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 47
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, it would have probably been better to listen to Nat. It is always better to listen to Nat. 

But Farah dared you to throw a pebble into the swirling purple vortex that appeared on the edge of Wayhaven, and you were curious about the possible portal-to-hell that just opened up out of nowhere. What harm could a pebble do, anyway?  
  
A lot. It did a lot of harm. 

You couldn’t even suck in a breath to scream when the vortex latches onto you as soon as you throw the pebble, a death grip on your arm. When your feet actually lift off the forest floor, you know you’re done for. 

Farah’s alarmed shriek sends Nat and Ava running, but they’re too late. You catch one last glimpse of Nat’s horrified face, your name on her lips, of Farah’s teary, guilt-ridden one, Morgan’s stunned expression, and Ava’s terrified look. 

The sparkling purple vortex deepens to a bruised, eggplant violet, and swallows you whole. 

You freefall through empty space, tumbling head over feet. It feels like forever until the portal opens up again, and spits you out. 

You sit on the ground, dazed, the forest spinning around you. 

It’s a different forest from Wayhaven’s. For instance, it’s winter now, black trees towering but empty of leaves, snow drifting gently from the sky. The thick blanket of it under you has cushioned your fall, though not by much. Your tailbone aches. 

You steady yourself the best you can, still feeling slightly nauseous, when there’s something sharp and icy pressed to your neck. It makes you jump, your squeak dying off in your throat when you look up. 

There’s an honest to god _sword_ against your neck, held by a large, intimidating figure clad in a full set of silver armour. It’s well-polished, so much so that you can see your own startled reflection in it. You look tiny and overwhelmed in the face of this soldier, and honestly all this is unnecessary considering your size difference. You raise your hands slowly in surrender, trying to calm your thumping heart. But whoever they are, they don’t budge even a little. 

“Speak your name,” the knight says. From behind the metal helmet, their voice is low and muffled, but commanding nonetheless. “If you are a witch, I will strike you down where you stand.” 

“What?” you splutter, but the sword against your neck digs a little harder into your skin and you tense. “Okay, okay.”  
  
You give your name, and the knight seems to consider it carefully, even though you don’t think it’s anything special. Slowly, the sword withdraws, and you’re relieved to see it sheathed safely away. You get a little bolder now that you aren’t in immediate danger. 

“Well, do _I_ get your name?” The knight seems to scoff, though it’s hard to tell with the stiff armour. “It’s how introductions usually go.”  
  
They hesitate for a moment, before reaching towards the back of their neck. With a tug, the helmet comes right off, releasing an unexpected wave of dark blonde curls, unravelling from a messy braid trapped in a tight space. 

“Ava?!” you blurt, mouth open. 

Her features look a little younger, but there’s no mistaking that square jaw, the tight frown and the icy green eyes that get a little frostier when you call out her name. She looks like she’s about to draw her sword again and strike you. 

“How do you know of my name?” she demands, sharp eyes scanning you closely. “I do not recall seeing someone like you in the manor.” Her lips thin. “You _are_ a witch.” 

Your head whirls again, but it’s not from the vortex this time. 

“I’m not!” You scramble backwards as she advances on you menacingly. “I found this portal in my own world, and I fell into it accidentally!”  
  
She pauses, but a brow quirks skeptically. 

“I’m from the future, I think. I know you...the _you_ from the future.” The brow raises even further. 

“And we are close enough to address each other in such a familiar fashion?”

“Um.” You think of the standoffish ways Ava used to rebuff your affections. “Sometimes. You were way too stiff and at times you were really stubborn and bull-headed,” you hastily change your tone when Ava’s frown deepens, and you’re not so sure you should be insulting someone who has an actual weapon, “but you were always there when I needed you. I’d like to think we’re at least friends now. Not besties or anything, but...you know.” _Or something more than that._

The Ava in front of you presses her lips together in a thin line, thinking. Her eyes drift over you, no longer angry, just curious. After a long pause, she relents, shoulders untensing a little. 

“The way you speak is strange, but I can understand what you mean.” The frown is still plastered on her face. “I admit, that does sound like me,” she says reluctantly. Slowly, she extends a hand towards you, and you flinch before you realise it’s a friendly act. 

She pulls you up from the snow and you dust yourself off, clutching your coat tighter around yourself. To be fair, you were dressed for the cool early autumn of Wayhaven, and your work outfit: pressed shirt, knee-length pencil skirt, and wool jacket, were no longer appropriate in what you assumed was winter in England. 

When you look up at Ava, she wrenches her eyes away from you. There’s a slow flush creeping across her cheeks as she marches off towards an incredibly enormous horse that you haven’t seen before, standing patiently just a little further away from where you were. 

You try to hurry after her, sensible work shoes sinking into the snow, but Ava is rushing back towards you with something in her hands. It’s a thick cloak, and you reach out for it gratefully, happy to have something to shield you from the cold. 

You don’t expect Ava to wrap your entire body up in it, like a caterpillar in its cocoon. 

“Uh, Ava?” you squeak, wriggling helplessly. “I think I need to breathe some.” 

She freezes, then loosens the cloak slowly. “Thanks,” you exhale.  
  
“Do all women from the future dress...like _you?_ ” There’s a scandalised edge to her tone, and you frown. 

“What? Oh.” You catch her gaze drifting down to your legs, and you almost laugh. “Showing off my legs?” You knock your bare calf against her armour-clad leg, though you regret it right away as it’s freezing. She grimaces at your act, turning away from you promptly. “Some are _worse._ ” 

You can tell she’s trying hard not to take the bait, but her curious green eyes flit down to you.  
  
“Worse?” she repeats, voice sounding a little hoarse. 

Oh, you’re having a field day. Young Ava is a little adorable. 

“Worse,” you confirm, nodding your head solemnly. “Women wear pants. All the time. And they wear shorts, which are pants, but the fabric ends about...” You make a slicing motion mid-thigh. “Here.” 

Ava flushes all the way up to her ears, and jerks away from you in an offended manner when you try to bite back your grin.

“You are mocking me.” 

“Honestly, not at all.” You give a shrug. “The outfit I’m wearing now is considered very modest.” 

You hear a disbelieving scoff. 

“Whether you are or not…” Ava clears her throat. “The clothes you are wearing are not suitable for the weather. You may choose better ones at my residence before we find a way for you to return home.” 

Your eyes widen. “Really?”  
  
Ava sighs, metal clanking as she rolls her shoulders back in an attempt to relax. “If you are who you say you are...I could not leave a friend out here in the snow.”  
  
“You don’t even know if we’re really friends.” But you’re already trailing behind her cheerfully, attached at her hip. 

She huffs. “Do not make me regret my decision.”   
  


* * *

  
Ava’s chateau is an impressive, elegant thing, a white marble and stone affair situated at the edge of the sea. You keep her cloak wrapped tight around you when you’re received by the servants. You can tell the footmen are casting inquisitive glances your way, and the handmaidens titter excitedly to each other after you pass them in the hallway. Ava pays them no mind, so you guess you shouldn’t either.

She escorts you to her quarters, double doors shut firmly behind you when you step inside. There’s already a fire roaring in the pretty brick fireplace, and you hurry over to plop yourself in front of it. 

You hear the quiet clanking, and Ava is silently, methodically shedding her pieces of armour. She’s wearing a thick, long-sleeved tunic underneath, and sturdy, sensible looking pants. Still, it does nothing to hide the bulk of her frame, the muscles straining against her sleeves as she rolls them up. It must take quite an effort to wear a full set of armour and go trampling about a forest, so you really shouldn’t be surprised by her physique. 

You gulp thickly, the fireplace now far too hot. 

She catches your gaze, and something seems to click in her mind. 

“I will get suitable clothing for you right away.” You let loose a relieved breath, glad she doesn’t catch the ogling. When she turns to her closet (which really just looks like another, smaller room), you take the chance to walk through the doors that lead from the sitting room to her bedroom. There’s a large balcony that overlooks the crashing sea, and a magnificent four-poster bed sits regally in the centre of the room. 

“Here.” You jump as Ava lays out what looks like several long white shifts, and an assortment of petticoats. There’s also a warm blue shawl, and many...different layers. Were you meant to choose? 

“Thanks!” You shrug off your coat and unbutton your shirt, eager to at least get into warm clothes that aren’t wet from the snow. 

Ava leaps away from the bed like she’s electrocuted, turning to glare out of the balcony. 

“Ava?” You shrug off your shirt and unzip your skirt. She flinches at the sound of your clothes dropping to the floor. “You okay there?” 

“Yes,” she snaps, shoulders tense. You slip on the plainest looking shift you see over your head, and what looks like a little cardigan. The thick petticoat made with warm cotton goes on next, but you can’t figure out how to make it stay on. There are too many ribbons and not enough hands. 

“Um, I think I need a hand.” The still figure in front of you stiffens even more. “Please?”  
  
She turns around slowly, eyes shut in frustration. “Do you truly not know how to dress yourself?” 

“Future clothes are not so complicated,” you complain. “Also, you can open your eyes. If anything, I am more covered than I was just now.”  
  
Ava cracks one eye open like you might be lying, then she gives a resigned sigh when she sees your tangled clothing. 

“Alright.” She untangles your petticoat with deft fingers, and wraps it around you more securely. Her head is bent over yours as she works, the heat from her close proximity enveloping you. From this angle, you can observe her closely. Somehow, she is the exact same but very different. There isn’t a weariness about her from living nearly nine hundred years, but there’s a guarded stiffness to her, of a young mortal woman who carries the weight of an uncertain future on her shoulders. 

Your fingers drift across her clenched jaw before you realise, and her green eyes snap up to yours. 

“So you were always this tense,” you mumble, more to yourself. Ava is still, unsure of the light touch, but you drop your hands quickly. “Sorry.”  
  
“No,” Ava whispers, before her brow furrows in confusion at her own soft reply. “I mean, there isn’t need for an apology. No harm done.” 

She hands you the blue shawl, and you wrap it around your shoulders. You notice the way Ava’s gaze lingers on your exposed décolletage before she tears her eyes away, a heavy frown on her lips. 

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. Some things still stay the same, after all.   
  


* * *

To Ava’s credit, she does take good care of you, despite the uncertainty of your identity. The two of you often return to the spot where she found you, hoping that the portal might open up again. 

It’s been almost a week with no success, and as you trudge back to her room, feet sore, you flop face down onto the enormous bed happily. Ava follows after you, shedding her cloak, looking less than impressed by your behaviour. 

You feel the bed dip as she sits by you. She still has her shoulder guards and thick metal gloves on, the complicated leather fastenings across her chest too much of a hassle to take off now that she’s exhausted. She picks absently at them as she looks down at you, observing your defeated posture. 

“We will expand the perimeter more.” Her voice is gentler than usual. “If there’s anything unusual, it has to be in that forest.”  
  
“You sound very confident.” Your voice is muffled by the duvet, but Ava hears you clearly. “Is that why you were there when you found me?” 

“Well, yes. A few of the servants employed in my care, as well as the people living near it, have often gone missing, or have perished in that forest.” Ava’s voice hardens. “There were rumours of a witch, and while I did not, _do not,_ believe in witches and other superstitious nonsense…” She clears her throat. “I found you.” 

It’s strange to see Ava so unaware of the supernatural world. You turn your head to look at her. “What if I really am a witch?” 

Her brow arches, but there’s an amused smile hovering on her lips. “You would be a very helpless, powerless witch.” 

“What if my irresistible charm was my power?” Ava snorts out loud this time, but you push yourself upright from the bed, closing the gap between you two. “You did bring me to your home, and now you’re trapped.” 

“Oh?” She turns to smirk at you. “Do I appear trapped?” 

You slide right into her space boldly, hands gripping her shoulders, thighs braced on either side of her.  
  
“Trapped,” you repeat, your eyes wide and serious, trying to elicit some sort of response from her. Ava narrows her eyes, leaning back on her palms to observe you. Her posture is casual, unguarded, though her piercing jade eyes sear through you. 

In one quick movement, she flips you over. You let out a soft ‘oof’ as your back hits the mattress, both wrists caught above your head by a single metal-gloved hand. Ava hovers over you, looking annoyingly pleased with herself, her other hand resting casually on her hip. 

“Am I still trapped, little witch?” She grins, wide and unabashed, little dimples creasing her skin, and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen Ava smile like that before, and it’s blinding. 

You’re too dazed to reply, blood rushing to your cheeks. Slowly, you can see Ava’s smug grin drop as she realises the position you’re in, your face flushed and lips parted. Her gaze falls to your lips, drawing down the length of your body under hers, soft and plush against the sheets. The heat of her gaze is impossible to bear, and you wriggle helplessly under her steel grip, your thigh accidentally sliding up and grazing her between her legs. 

Her breath stutters and her grip tightens on your wrists. She loses her balance for a split second, and the other hand comes crashing down hard by your head, strong fingers clenching in the duvet. 

“Ava?” Your voice seems to shake her out of her stupor and she immediately releases your wrists, her sharp eyes unusually soft and hazy, uncertain. She’s about to draw back, confusion and desire clinging to her expression, but she freezes in place as you lift a hand to cup her clenched jaw. The stunned expression fades into a softer one when your thumb runs over her cheek, her eyes almost fluttering shut at the touch. Your mouth goes dry as she slowly turns her head to kiss your fingers, gently, devoutly, dark green eyes heavy with need. 

“Is this okay?” Her voice is hoarse, hesitant. You nod, and she cracks another smile, so unbelievably tender, leaning down so her forehead brushes against yours. You’re fixed on her, unable to look away from the softness she exudes. 

When she closes the gap and presses her lips against yours, it’s tentative, like she’s afraid of breaking you. You slide your palms up her shoulders and wind your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. She gravitates towards you, though her arms are braced stubbornly on either side of you, unwilling to crush you under her weight no matter how much you want her to. 

You decide to take the lead this time and nibble gently at her bottom lip, tugging it into your mouth and sucking on it lightly. When you release it, Ava makes such a quiet, wanting moan that it sparks a heat low in your belly, her hands finally digging into your hips. 

The second kiss is like electricity and thunder crashing down upon you. You’re pressed hard into the mattress, the full weight of Ava upon you, the curves of her body flush against yours. She uses her teeth and her tongue, and her kiss tastes like how she fights, scraping rough and urgent against you. When she draws your tongue into her mouth and sucks on it, you arch into her helplessly, and she swallows your whines.

Regrettably, you have to break away, gasping for air. Ava wastes no time pressing her lips to your jaw, down your neck, a hot mouth dragging hungrily against your bare skin. You gasp when she nips playfully at the base of your throat, then roughly trails a burning tongue over to soothe the mark she’s left. A human Ava is a different Ava, you realise with a whimper, human Ava isn’t restricted by the thought of her boundless strength. She doesn’t think she can hurt you, and so she’s more unbridled in her affections. 

All that goes flying out the window when Ava tries to tug your shift aside to kiss your shoulder, but ends up ripping the neckline. Never mind that thought. 

Your eyebrows shoot up, and she has the decency to look a little abashed. 

“I can buy you another one,” Ava promises, then hesitates, uncharacteristically shy. “May I…?” 

“Huh?” You have no idea what she wants, but you’re up for anything at this point. “Go ahead.” 

There’s a loud ripping, and you stare in disbelief as Ava digs her metal-gloved hands into the shift and tears it apart. She doesn’t even give the poor ripped tatters a second look, blown out green eyes already taking in the exposed skin greedily. The gloves come off, and warm hands drift over your hips, blond head dipping to mouth at the swell of your breasts, still thankfully encased in the bra you wore the day you tumbled into her world. Of all the days you chose to wear it, it had to be the one day where Ava was being particularly violent with your clothes. 

“Ava du Mortain.” She makes a low, questioning hum against your skin, and you ignore the fluttering shivers that come from it. “Did you just rip my shift?”  
  
Her head pops up, lips twisted into a defensive frown. “You said I could.” 

“I just-” Your head thumps back against the duvet and you give a disbelieving, fond chuckle. It’s just like Ava to break your things and then offer to buy you a new one. “Some things are the same.”  
  
She eyes you in confusion, not knowing what you mean. 

“If you rip my only bra off, I guarantee your hands will never touch me again.”  
  
Ava balks at that, eyeing it cautiously, then gazing at you beseechingly. 

“Will you take it off, then?” she murmurs, fingers not even daring to brush against the fragile lace. She surges forward to kiss your jaw, trying to sweeten the deal, and you almost laugh. 

You unclip it, sliding it down your arms, and drop it off the side of the bed. Feeling a little exposed, your arms automatically wrap around yourself, but Ava’s hands are there, stopping you. 

“Please don’t,” she says breathlessly. She lowers her head, and the hot breath drifting over you makes goosebumps pebble over your skin.  
  
“Ava,” you whine insistently, arching your chest into her mouth. She takes the hint immediately, mouth closing over one breast while her hand reaches up to squeeze the other gently. Her calloused thumb, circling over one nipple, and the other being ravished under a skilled tongue, is making your body twitch, nerves sparking and alight. Your body jerks under her helplessly, and she takes her time to properly devour you, teeth scraping over your sensitive skin so ravenously that you cry out, hips arching and thighs rubbing together, desperate for friction. 

At long last, she takes pity on you and peels away from your chest, lips leaving your skin with a soft, wet sound. She heads down, pressing and licking kisses along your stomach, strong hands gripping your hips and lifting them eagerly to her mouth. You know you’ve made a wet patch against your underwear, and the way Ava is running her tongue longingly along the edge of the lace is not helping. 

Your eyes widen at the thought of Ava ripping that off too, but she mistakes your uncertainty for fear. Her gaze warms, and she presses a soft kiss to your hip.  
  
“We can stop if you want to,” she assures you. “I will not hold it against you in the slightest.” 

“I don’t want to stop,” you blurt. “Just...don’t rip those off too.” 

Ava rolls her eyes. “I will be exceedingly careful.” She lifts your hips again, easily, and her teeth catch onto the edge of the lace. “Very careful,” she murmurs, and she starts peeling it off you with her teeth, ravenous green eyes pinning you in place. You think you might pass out right there on the bed, your thighs squeezing helplessly together as she drags the soaked cloth off you, and drops it to the ground. 

“What the hell was that, Ava?” You swat at her angrily as she pounces back onto the bed, but she catches your wrist and presses a soft kiss to the inside of it. 

“What was what?” she asks, a faux-innocent tone lingering in her voice, before the heat creeps back into her eyes as she gazes upon you, fully nude and exposed beneath her. Her voice is a low rasp, hungry and lustful. “Can I put my mouth on you?” 

“Put your...oh.” Your cheeks are burning, and you feel like Ava’s intense gaze is burning a hole through you. 

“You can say no,” Ava murmurs, already drifting up towards you. 

“Yes,” you burst out in a rushed breath, and Ava pauses, head tilted like she’s appraising you. “Please.” You lick your lips, leaving them glossy and kiss-swollen, and her eyes flicker as they follow the movement, hypnotised. _“Please,_ Ava.” 

A low rumble tears its way out of her throat, unbidden. Seems like she has a rather guttural reaction to the sound of your begging, and you store that away for later. 

Ava’s large, warm hand slides heavily down your thigh, calloused fingers caressing your skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. She sits up so that she can throw your thigh over her shoulder, spreading you out. You squeak, face ablaze as she turns her head to leave biting kisses along your inner thigh, stilling your squirming with a firm hand on your hips. 

Her breath ghosts over your core teasingly, eyes glinting as you give a frustrated whine, hips bucking up into the air. She presses an open mouthed kiss to it, tenderly, and the gasp that it wrenches out of you makes her smile. Achingly slow, like she’s savouring you, she drags her tongue along your folds, groaning quietly as the wet slick smears against her cheeks. Her licks are slow and broad and heavy, sending electric sparks every time her tongue bumps up against your clit. 

Your whimpers are getting louder, more desperate, and you fling your arm across your face, biting down on it to keep your embarrassing noises to a minimum. But the moment you do it, Ava lets loose a low, displeased growl, fingers digging into your thighs, and the vibration rolls through your core so quickly that you come embarrassingly quick, completely untouched. 

Ava leans forward and pulls your arm away. 

“Don’t hide your face from me.” Her voice is surprisingly even and gentle. She lowers your hips to the bed, and crawls up to lay next to you, brushing your hair back from your face. Her eyes darken with the words she says next. “I want to see what you look like when you come.”  
  
Your heart thunders in your chest, and you clench your sticky thighs together. “I, uh, I already did.” 

“You did?” Ava’s brows shoot up, before her grin curves into a roguishly pleased one. Her voice drapes over you, low and raspy and velvety. “Can you do it again?” 

Her fingers drift between your legs, collecting the wetness that’s gathered there and spreading it all over. You try not to let your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Yeah. Um. Yes.” All the intelligent words have fled from your brain. 

A low chuckle rumbles from Ava, and she presses a kiss to your temple. “I want to be inside you.” You feel her blunt fingertips press against your labia, rubbing in small, gentle circles. “Can I?” 

“Uh,” you mutter, fingers scrabbling against her broad shoulders uselessly, digging into her shirt. Ava shakes her head. 

“Use your words,” she prompts. 

“Yes,” you blurt. “I want you inside me.” Her eyes soften in approval, though her fingers are still stubbornly circling, circling and circling, driving you mad. “Please. _Please,_ Ava.”

The magic word works, and you aren’t sure whose moan is louder as her finger sinks in. She works you open gently, and it’s not long before you’re begging for another, and another. 

She’s three fingers deep when you throw your head back, your voice just as breathless and hoarse as Ava’s as she pumps them into you, the bedsheets beneath you soaking wet. The slick, wet sounds echo within the confines of her four-poster bed, and Ava’s eyes are fixated on how you pull her fingers in, your thighs wet and shiny and trembling, one of your hands clutching desperately at her wrist, urging her to quicken her pace. 

“Ava, almost,” you gasp. Her fingers are thicker than you thought, and every time they quirk, rippling inside you, it rips apart your control just a little more. It doesn’t help that whenever you refocus your eyes, you meet Ava’s dark, ravenous gaze, ivy eyes staring like she can’t believe you’re writhing in her arms, riding on her fingers. You can’t muffle the nasty, unfiltered moan that she drags out of you when she spreads her fingers open inside you, palm grinding into your clit. 

You think you hear your name, whispered reverently by your ear as you come, but you’re seeing stars far too much to notice. You feel yourself gathered into a warm chest, your body shaking as you gulp for breath, your fingers still clenching around Ava’s wrist. 

When you come back to your senses, Ava is pressing a line of little kisses along your temple, covered in a thin sheet of perspiration. You shift your hips and realise Ava’s fingers are still inside you, but her thumb has come up to circle your clit. Your hips jerk, oversensitive, and you whine. 

“Too much, Ava.”  
  
She kisses you, her gaze unbearably tender, and whispers, “One more, please. Just once more.” 

“I…” You’re cut off with a gasp as the circling grows heavier, and you can’t deny the heat pooling low in your stomach again. “God, you’re gonna break me.” 

“I hope not,” Ava chuckles, eyes gleaming. She shifts herself, presses your knees back against your chest, and somehow slides her fingers in even deeper than before. Your shouts are loud and hoarse as she pounds you into the mattress, trapped beneath her broad frame, the bed rocking alarmingly. The loud, wet noises are so obscene that it breaks you further. 

“That’s it, little one,” Ava pants roughly, tendrils of blonde hair escaping from her braid and trailing down the sides of her face. “Come for me.” She presses her fingers in as deep as they can go, undulating them mercilessly. “You’re beautiful when you come.” 

Your eyes roll back and you unravel with a choked-off gasp, clenching around her fingers so tight it's a miracle she hasn’t got a cramp. Your eyes focus just enough to see Ava grind against her wrist, mouth open and panting as her greedy eyes take you in. Your gaze meets hers, and you moan her name brokenly, hands reaching out for her. 

The sight of you makes her tilt her head back, eyes falling shut, muscles in her neck tensing deliciously, and she comes against you, hips stuttering. Her body twitches for a long minute, every single muscle in her body taut with pleasure, before she drops on top of you. She buries her face into your neck, hips rocking weakly, muffling her loud, pleasured groans against your skin. 

When she finally manages to catch her breath, she gently pulls her fingers out with a squelch that burns your cheeks. 

She lifts her wet fingers to her lips, making sure to catch your eye as she licks one finger clean. You smack her hand away, and she only grins at your flustered expression, bringing her hand to her mouth again.  
  
“You’re insatiable, Ava du Mortain.” 

“Perhaps only when it comes to you,” she says, voice smooth and raspy in her post-orgasm bliss. You’re stunned by her open honesty. She just nuzzles happily into the crook of your neck, hand running down your thigh and guiding it to wrap around her waist. 

“I can’t believe you’re still dressed,” you complain, shoving at her shoulder. She only makes a grunt, and doesn’t move. You try to dip your voice into a more sultry caliber. “Maybe you’re insatiable because I haven’t taken care of you yet.” 

She gives a snort. “I already took care of it.”  
  
You pout. “I wanted to touch you, too.” 

You give one more soft huff before she relents, pushing herself up and kissing you gently. 

“Next time,” she promises, and then hauls herself off the bed to find something to clean you off with. 

“Oh.” Your ears burn as you finally take in her words. “Wait. Next time? Next _time,_ Ava?” 

Her unexpected laugh rings from the sitting room, and you sink into her bed, enamoured by the sound.  
  


* * *

  
The next time comes when you’re invited to watch a bout of training between Ava and her soldiers. 

She’s wielding a wooden training sword, but her soldiers are holding real ones. Long, shiny, intimidating, steel swords. You can’t help but watch on anxiously, flinching whenever one of her soldiers swing it clumsily towards her. She always steps out of the way at the last moment, face impassive and serious, disapproval pressing her lips into a thin line as she barks directions. 

“Can we get on with some real jousting, now?” A loud voice booms from the other side of the arena, and though you jump with the rest of the soldiers, you can’t help but notice that Ava is smiling. 

An absolute beast of a man emerges from the stands, towering over everyone else. His vibrant red beard and round-patterned armour reminds you of a viking. Ava turns towards him as her soldiers retreat, her stance regal and formal, though her smile is turning into a smirk. 

“Are you so eager to be publicly defeated again?” 

The not-viking towers over Ava, and he makes her bulk and height look small and slender. He gives a grin and tosses a heavy sword her way. Ava catches it with ease, her blonde brows arching. 

“Shut it and fight, girl.” 

Ava makes him bite the dust in about five minutes. 

Strangely, he’s still in a humorous mood. He gives Ava a bloodied grin from the ground, though her foot is pressing him into the dirt, steel sword poised against his throat. Her armour glints brilliantly in the sun, not one hair out of place on her incredibly neat french braid, green eyes shining with mirth. 

She catches your eye in the stands, where you’re holding still with bated breath, and gives you a wink. 

Ava du Mortain. Ava du Mortain’s wink. Ava du Mortain is winking at you. 

“Aye, stop showin’ off for your girl and getcha foot off me.” At his words, Ava frowns down at him. 

“I do not show off.” She gives him a hand and hauls him to his feet anyway. “There is nobody I need to impress.” She looks at his battered form. “You, on the other hand…” 

He makes an obscene gesture at Ava, and she only rolls her eyes. 

She dismisses her soldiers, and as they continue training behind her, she vaults over the gates with ease, striding up the steps to the stands where you’re at.  
  
There’s an adorable line of dirt smeared across her nose, and you reach up to wipe it off with your sleeve. Her lips quirk into an almost-smile at your touch. 

“I didn't mean to keep you waiting.” She offers her arm, and you slide your hand onto smooth armour. “Shall we?”  
  


* * *

  
When Ava corners you against the wall of her private dressing room, stealing several breathless, eager kisses before sinking down on one knee, you learn that being high on victory is a real thing. 

Thankfully, today is the day you chose to go with the traditional dress, forgoing your modern undergarments in Ava’s room. She doesn’t tear your skirts off, though there’s a very suspicious ripping sound and a quiet muttering when Ava eagerly pushes the fabric aside. Greedy hands grasp onto the back of your thighs, and you muffle a shriek when you’re lifted up against the wall, your legs draped over Ava’s broad, armour covered shoulders. 

She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, gazing up at you attentively. 

“Are you alright?” 

The sight of her, still fully clad in her steel suit but down on her knees, would have made you buckle if she wasn’t still holding you up. Somehow, kneeling between your legs does nothing to dampen how imposing or intimidating she looks. 

“Yeah,” you say faintly, but that’s enough for Ava. She kisses along your thigh, blonde head buried between your legs, and your toes curl in the air as she meets your core, wasting no time sinking her tongue into you as deeply as she possibly can. Her fingers squeeze and knead your thighs possessively, and every time you release a desperate whine or gasp, hips rolling eagerly against her face, she responds with a ravenous growl, rumbling right against your clit. 

You dig your hands into her hair, messing up her perfect braid, but Ava only lets out an approving moan and her efforts double; her mouth is wet and hot and hungry against you, a distinct contrast against the cool metal armour pressing into your thighs. She devours you like you’re the spoils of her battle, hands roaming like she can’t get enough of you, pinning you against the wall even as your hips jerk and shift against her. 

“Ava,” you cry, fingers sinking into her wavy curls and tugging, “please, I can’t, Ava-” 

She gives in to you with a low, broken hum, unable to deny you anytime you beg. Her lips close over your clit, sealing tight and sucking. You’re coming within seconds, body bowed over her head, thighs trembling uncontrollably against her ears. It feels like a wave is crashing over you, again and again as Ava refuses to relent. When she finally lets you slide down against the wall into her strong, capable arms, your legs still shaking, she kisses you hard and victoriously, and you feel the curve of her smug, satisfied smile. 

“My turn,” you croak, a brave thing to say when you can’t feel your legs. She chuckles when you glare at her, and she carries you off the floor with surprising ease, settling against a padded chaise lounge and holding you close on her lap. 

She starts peppering your face with tiny, distracting kisses, until you shake your head hard so you can focus and tug at the thick chainmail beneath her armour.  
  
“Off, please?” It’s almost comical how quickly Ava obeys the moment you ask, voice sweet and pleading. She removes the metal quickly and efficiently, but your pleased attitude vanishes the moment she tugs her tunic over her head, draping it carefully over the back of the chaise. 

You know she’s built, but by god you weren’t prepared to see it in person. There isn’t any part of her that isn’t covered in long, lean muscle, carved and defined. You run your hands along her shoulders and down her arms, feeling the soft bumps of scars along her pale skin, tracing the tiny freckles dusting over her collarbones, like stars. Her breasts are pleasantly full, and you slide your hands down to cup them, feeling her nipples harden between your fingers, Ava gasping quietly at your touch. Her calloused hand is warm against your lower back, trying to guide you closer to her.

When you kiss her sweetly, hand slipping beneath the waistband of her pants, she makes a pained groan right into your mouth, her hand on your back clenching tight at the fabric of your dress. Your fingers go lower, slowly, brushing past the coarse patch of hair, dipping to find a familiar, sticky wetness. You slide your finger between her folds, and her body jerks under you satisfyingly, a low whine tumbling from her lips. More slick gushes wetly against your finger as you roll it against her. 

“Good?” you ask, surprised to find your voice breathless. 

“You’re torturing me,” she growls, trying for a frown but looking more like a pout. “Hurry,” she urges as you sink one finger inside her, her hips rolling insistently against you, her arousal running down your hand and over your wrist. 

You watch her lust-drunk face in fascination, brows furrowed tight, blonde waves tumbling over her sharp features, her eyes half-lidded as she focuses on her pleasure. When she demands it, you press more fingers into her and watch her pretty mouth drop open as she gasps, opening up for you. 

“You’re beautiful, Ava,” you murmur honestly, and she shuts her eyes tight, whining as she presses her sweaty forehead against yours, hips rocking forward to chase the fullness of your fingers sinking into her. When you twist your fingers and dive in just right, her breath hitches and a low, guttural groan tears out of her. She releases you to dig her fingers into the lounge beneath her, and you hear the wood beneath the padded velvet give an alarming squeak. 

“Close?” you whisper, and she nods furiously, unable to speak. When she opens her eyes again, you’re struck by the hazy, deep emerald of her irises, blown wide with desire. You try to angle your fingers right into the spot that makes her spasm, and zone in on it repeatedly, ignoring the way your arm is starting to ache. 

She cries out against you, clenching so tight you’re almost rendered immobile, but you press on, wanting to see that stoic facade crack and break.  
  
When she comes, jaw clenched tight, hips rocking up helplessly into your soaked hand, she murmurs your name again and again like a prayer. You’re drawn to her, gently smoothing her hair away from her sweat-soaked temple, and pressing a soothing kiss to her lips. She reciprocates eagerly, all the tension bleeding out from her muscles as you whisper praises against her skin. 

You kind of get why Ava loves to see you unravel, again and again. You want to do it again too, take her apart. When you suggest it to her, she gives you such a breathless, disbelieving laugh that you can’t help but grin.  
  
“Have mercy on me, little witch,” she rasps, her voice raw and teasing. You wriggle out of her hold and sink between her legs, eager to clean up the mess you’ve made. She lifts your chin gently in one hand, her eyes tender. 

“No mercy,” you say cheerfully. The choked off swearing above you as you sink your tongue into her makes your victory taste so sweet. 

The wood under the chaise lounge actually cracks this time.  
  


* * *

  
Ava insists on a bath, but you didn’t think it included you. You also don’t think she knows what an actual bath is. 

You’re sitting in a large, marble bathtub, which looks more like a small kiddie pool than an actual bath. Ava’s sitting behind you, her hand wrapped possessively around your middle, pulling you back into her chest.  
  
When you turn to peek at her, she’s fully relaxed, head tilted back, exposing her smooth, bare throat. You can’t help but press a kiss at the juncture of her neck and her shoulder, and when she hums in approval, you boldly lick a long stripe up her neck. 

Piercing green eyes fly open, pinning you into place. You grin sheepishly, and Ava bites back her smile.  
  
“Now who’s insatiable?” she rumbles, muscled arms circling around to trap you to her. She tangles her legs with yours and pulls them apart. When you find that you aren’t able to shut them again, her calves blocking yours and holding your legs open, you swallow back the dizzying wave of desire. Or is that just the hot water in the tub?

She plays you remarkably well, one arm wrapped tightly around you, your back flush against her chest, the other hand dipping eagerly between your legs. You spasm helplessly against her, your nails digging into the thick bicep slung heavily over your chest, feeling it shift and flex under your slippery grip. 

“I wanna come,” you blabber, as Ava retreats her fingers _yet again_ , just shy of your peak. “Please, please, _please,_ Ava.” Your whimpery, shameless begging bounces off the echoey tiles of the bathroom, and Ava soaks it in, groaning against your shoulder. You can feel her grinding up against you from behind, chasing her own pleasure. 

She wraps her large frame around you, lips pressed to your ear. 

“Go ahead, little one,” she husks, three fingers sinking in deep, teeth scraping against your earlobe. She lets you grind desperately against her calloused palm. **“Come for me.”**

You think you black out for a moment as your body obeys her low command, your back arching but going nowhere under her firm hold. Your orgasm rams into you, blazing all the way to your toes. When you blink, trying to regain your senses, you hear Ava’s harsh, desperate panting, hips rolling against you. The water crashes against your skin, rippling and splashing with the movement. 

She bites down on your shoulder when she comes, growling, and it’s enough for you to spiral into another orgasm, unprompted, squeezing desperately around her thick fingers.   
  


* * *

  
It’s the sixteenth patrol in thirteen days, the sixteenth time you and Ava return to the forest. You’re riding on her horse with her, terrifyingly high above the ground, but she’s holding you securely from behind, her large, warm hands guiding yours on the reins. She has her chin on your shoulder, murmuring instructions into your ear, but you can’t keep your attention away from her long fingers draped over yours, encasing them completely. 

“Oh.” Ava’s strange, strangled tone has your head popping up, momentarily distracted from less than noble thoughts. 

The swirling purple vortex is back, spinning in the forest like a mirror-sized black hole. Ava pulls her hands from you as she dismounts, and you miss the warmth of her draped across your back. 

She approaches the vortex cautiously, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other gripping your arm, making sure you’re safe behind her. It’s so reminiscent of Future Ava that a strange nostalgia tugs at your heart. 

The two of you spend a long time staring into the swirly portal until you clear your throat, breaking the silence. Ava startles, but she doesn’t look at you, her head tilted firmly away. 

You realise her grip has slackened on your arm, and you slide your hand down to entangle your fingers in hers, squeezing it. 

She still refuses to look at you, glaring right at the vortex like it’s the cause of all her troubles. 

“What if it’s a trap?” she bites out, jade eyes cold and frosty. “What if you end up somewhere different, somewhere dangerous, where I can’t find you?” 

Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence, betraying her fear. You gaze at the portal, your instinct telling you somehow that you’ll return home. From Ava’s anguished look, it feels like she knows it too. 

“I’ll see you soon, in the future,” you say, but your words sound faraway. 

Ava stares down at you, her lips pressed into a tight line, her emerald eyes glossy. “It isn’t the near future, is it?” 

She’s certainly not foolish, and you know she’s been watching the way you act, how your clothes are worn, the things you talk about. You don’t belong in this time. 

“No,” you admit, heart sinking at the thought of the nine hundred long years in front of her. 

She takes in a deep breath, a resolute, hardened look coming over her. 

“I will wait,” she says quietly. “And I will find you.” Her gaze flickers up, uncharacteristically vulnerable and hesitant. “Will you wait for me?” 

“Yes,” you manage to say before your heart breaks, and then Ava is there, kissing the tears from your face before pressing a fervent kiss to your lips. The kiss is salty, and when you open your eyes, you realise Ava is crying too, tears spilling over her flushed cheeks. 

Your chest wrenches even harder, and you throw your arms around her neck. She holds you tight, face buried in your neck, inhaling shakily like she’s trying to remember your scent. 

“Don’t cry, love,” you croak, fingers threading through her hair comfortingly. “I’ll wait for you, I promise. I swear on my life.”  
  
“Do not use your life as a bargaining chip,” Ava scolds, her voice hoarse from crying. 

It takes you a long moment to pull away, and Ava grips onto you like she can’t bear to let go. 

“I’ll find you.” She grits her teeth, determination bold and resolute in her shimmering jade eyes. 

“I know,” you answer confidently, and her lips quirk into a small, broken smile. She lifts your knuckles to her lips, presses an affectionate kiss to it before she finally lets you go, metal-gloved fingers trailing along your arm. 

The vortex swallows you whole, sparking like a faulty light bulb, and vanishes from the forest floor. 

Ava stands there alone in the wintry forest, her steed stamping on the ground restlessly behind her. She feels like the portal took her heart along with it. 

You’re free-falling again, spinning through the purple vortex. It seems faster this time, and in a few seconds you’re spat out onto a green forest floor, autumn leaves crunching under you. Your head is spinning as you try not to throw up, and your eyes eventually settle on a dark figure lounging in the branches of a nearby tree. 

Morgan nearly falls out of the tree when she sees you. 

“Holy shit!” She’s in front of you in seconds, the scent of smoke wafting towards you and keeping you centered. It feels so familiar yet oddly out of place. She grips you by the arms, turning you this way and that. “Are you hurt? Where the hell did you go? It’s been three days! Ava and Rebecca are just about to activate the entire goddamn Agency to look for you!” 

“Three days?” you mumble. “Hasn’t it been thirteen days?” 

“No. Did you hit your head?” You hear the dial tone of Morgan calling someone. “For fuck’s sake, pick up!”  
  
“Morgan.” The low, steel tone of Ava’s voice jerks you back into reality. “This better be good.”  
  
“Better than good!” she crows. “She’s back! In the same spot!” 

Ava doesn’t reply. Morgan stares at her phone before rolling her eyes and helping you up. “She’ll go easy on you, you’re just a human.” She thinks about it. “Maybe. She might yell a lot.” 

You barely have time to formulate a response before Ava appears in front of you in a blur, panting softly, the collar of her peacoat sticking half-up, her usually immaculate bun loose and drooping. 

There’s a hundred different expressions flitting over her face at once like she’s recalling something, before she smiles, actually smiles, her grin so bright and happy and dimpled that it feels like you’re seeing her for the first time. She holds out her hands, and you stumble towards her, drawn to her light. 

Your lips crush against hers clumsily in a kiss, but it doesn’t dampen her smile in the slightest. You wrap your arms around her neck and she lifts you up, chuckling wetly, her bright green eyes shining with tears. 

You think you hear the shutter noise of Morgan taking a picture, but you don’t really care. 

“I found you,” Ava murmurs wonderingly, kissing the tears off your face again in the exact same way. You don’t even realise you’re crying. “I found you.”  
  
“You did, love,” you reply, voice cracking as she presses her forehead against yours, looking so soft and content that your heart breaks, but in a very different way. You cradle her sharp jaw in your hand, thumb brushing over her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut, drowning in your familiar touch with a relieved sigh. 

“I knew you would.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hell is 

Loving you in my sleep 

And waking up alone.” 

-Casey, _Hell_

aftermath of tempus edax rerum; 

Ava doesn’t remember the winter air being quite so biting. 

She knows she’s dreaming again, because it’s the same dream she’s had for the past couple of decades. She almost always forgets it when she wakes up, but once she enters the dream, everything is crisp and clear; a movie replaying the most distant memories of her human life. 

Her armour makes a quiet clinking as she shifts, metal glancing off metal. She adjusts her helmet, hand on the hilt of her sword, her steps heavy and slow as she walks away, pretending not to notice the looming shadow following her. It darts between the tall, black trees, impressively silent for its massive size. 

When Ava is sick of being stalked, she draws her sword from its scabbard, metal singing. 

The wolfbeast stands, taller than any man, the size of a little cottage. Its body is a mass of writhing shadows and semi-solid muscle, fraying where it ends, digging into the snow. It curls around the tree trunks to steady itself, its large wolf head swaying as it looks down upon Ava, empty eye sockets taunting her. 

Ava narrows her eyes, reaching up to her helmet to flick her visor on. It clicks into place, and she lifts her heavy sword, fingers flexing on the thick, leather-wrapped hilt, blade tucked under her chin. 

The wolfbeast charges, tendrils of wet, black mass lunging out. Ava dodges them deftly; the ones that she can’t, she blocks with her blade, grunting as they wrap around the polished steel, shoving her back, eager to eat her alive. 

She has to leap back before the wolf’s head crashes down, just inches from where she was standing. The snow flies up, scattering across his shadowy head, dusting Ava’s armour in white. Ava barely manages to wrench her sword back in time as the head rears back, lips curled back in a snarl to reveal several rows of sharp, mangled teeth. 

The wolf screams, blank eyes wide with fury, and Ava knows she has to run. 

She can hear the salivating, frothing chomping of jaws behind her, the terrifying sound of snow crunching quickly as the wolfbeast claws its way forward, its distorted body cracking and shifting as it follows her, unable to maintain its wolf form for long. 

Ava leads him to the clearing in the forest before skidding to a stop, panting, standing in the circle of sunlight. The winter sun is weak, but it is enough to keep it at bay. Its tendrils patter around the edge of the light anxiously, retreating with a hiss when they go too far. 

Yet, luck is not on Ava’s side today. 

The sunlight dims as a cloud passes over it, shadows stretching over the clearing. The beast takes a second to register it, a pause of surprise. 

It gives a horrible, triumphant howl when it advances, and Ava is ready, stance lowered, sword raised, feet digging firmly into the snow. 

She drives her sword deep, the sickly sound of tearing flesh ripping through the clearing, and the wolfbeast squeals like a pig, shadows twisting in the air. It drops to the snow with a loud thud as Ava yanks her sword out, black blood trailing from the edge of her blade onto the dirty snow. 

A great shudder runs through its misshapen body, and it slowly starts to coil back onto itself, rising from the snow. Ava glances up at the sky, desperate. The sun is peeking out from the clouds, beams of faint light brushing the ground, but it’s not enough. 

There’s a rustle behind her and Ava flinches, turning slowly so as to not alarm the beast. Ava watches the head of her human slowly peek around the trunk of a tall oak tree. 

You emerge from the safety of your hiding spot, still clutching onto her shield. 

“I told you to hide,” Ava grits out under her breath, staying completely still. 

“We don’t have time,” you whisper loudly, and you both freeze as the beast shifts, uncoiling from the ground. “Ava!” Her head swings towards you, her alarmed eyes hidden behind her visor, but the tension is obvious from her stance. “Trust me.” 

“I’m not risking you!”   
  
“You don’t have a choice.”   
  
The graveness of those words strike Ava like a lance to the chest, but she has no time to think as the beast screeches, tearing itself forward. Ava takes a step next to you, still and trusting even though every other instinct is screaming at her to grab her human and run. 

She stays still for you. 

You lift her polished shield, tilting it towards the sky. In a sharp, quick movement, you angle it down at the wolfbeast. 

The reflected sunlight floods the beast’s empty eyes, and it gives such a deafening, pained shriek that it almost brings you to your knees. But you hold firm, your knuckles white on the edge of the shield as you press forward. The beast recoils, scrabbling helplessly in the snow, melting as the smell of burnt flesh permeates the air. 

It seems like eternity before its horrible squealing dies off, its body charred to a smoking black lump. 

You lower the shield tentatively. Ava is pressed up against you, shoulder to shoulder as you both share the shield, peering over it, hearts pounding. 

“We did it,” you whisper, and you give a quiet whoop that startles Ava so much she clanks comically, reeling away from you. Her shoulders sag as soon as she realises you are right, and she lets herself lean heavily against the oak tree. You beam at her exhausted form as she rips the helmet from her head, letting it roll carelessly to the ground as she shakes her messy braid out, blonde waves sticking to the perspiration on her temples. 

“ _You_ did it,” she corrects. “Your plan worked.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” you tease cheerfully, sinking her shield into the snow, fingers pattering against it. “If I had to go up against that thing like you did, I would have died instantly.” 

“I would not let that happen.”   
  
Her low, solemn tone makes your smile falter. She’s still leaning against the tree casually, but her expression is intense, raw and open. Her green eyes are hard and determined, her mouth pressed into a tight line, thoroughly displeased at the thought of you getting hurt. You watch a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face and off her sharp jawline, falling into the snow next to the abandoned, blood-stained sword. 

You have to tear your eyes away before you do something stupid, like kiss her senseless against that tree.   
  
“I know,” you answer, trying not to sound too breathless. 

Ava’s brow furrows as you look away. She lifts her arm and crooks a finger, gazing at you pointedly. 

You slowly make your way over to her, hoping your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. Her hand settles on your waist once you’re near, pulling you close, her warm breath ghosting over your cheeks as she surveys you. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Of course not.” But Ava is already roughly patting you down, spinning you around until she’s satisfied with what she finds. You roll your eyes as you endure it, even though you did nothing but trample through the snow with an enormous shield. 

When she spins you back to face her, you whisper, “Are _you_ hurt?” 

She blinks at the genuine concern, and gazes down at you, the flicker of emotion in her eyes almost imperceptible. 

“Yes,” she admits, and you tense up, pushing away from her, scanning her worriedly. “Right here.”   
  
She taps her lips twice. 

You stare at her, dumbfounded, and the deafening silence that follows is enough to make Ava’s ears flush red. 

“That was really bad, Ava,” you tell her, and she ducks her head, groaning. Her embarrassed face is hilarious and you can’t hold your poker face for much longer, so you squeeze her cheeks, pulling them to distort her face. 

“Ow,” she complains, her voice muffled as you pull, stretching her face out. “Stop that.” 

You’re pretty sure she could stop you herself if she wanted to, but she doesn’t, and it’s surprisingly adorable. You release her, patting her cheeks as she grumbles, trying to elbow you out of the way. Laughing at her grumpy face, you step between her legs, backing her up against the tree, and give her the kiss she wanted. 

She stills, hands hovering awkwardly before you feel her smile, curved and warm against your lips. Her arms wrap tight around your waist, bodies flush together, and she dips you low as she presses insistently against your mouth, your arms winding around her neck as you laugh into her kiss. 

She kisses you until you’re both starting to get frostbite, then she wraps you in her cloak and takes you home.   
  


* * *

  
You fall onto Ava’s enormous four-poster bed after a satisfying hot bath, sighing happily as the silk duvets swallow you whole. 

Ava lifts a brow as you roll around, burying your face in her pillows. She sits primly at the writing desk herself, knotting her damp hair into a bun to get it out of the way, no doubt getting ready to write her report about the successful vanquishing of whatever the hell that was in the forest. 

“Shall I add your name to it?” The nib of Ava’s goose-quill pen hovers over the paper, dipped in fresh ink. You roll several times over on the bed until you can face her. 

“Probably not. I’m meant to be from the future, remember?” You stick your tongue out at her. “You can put your name under all that glory. Ava du Mortain: beautiful, smart _and_ strong!” 

She gives you an unimpressed look. “I prefer not to blow my own whistle. Also, it was your idea that saved us. It feels unjust for it to only bear my name.” 

“What’s mine is yours, babe,” you mumble, staring up at the velvet curtains. 

“I am not a child.”   
  
“Babe is a term of endearment in the future.” 

You hear the sound of the nib scratching across paper, and a soft sigh. “I know nothing of the future to contest you on that fact.”

You roll off the bed, padding across the floor and closing in on Ava. She eyes you warily as you approach her, her brows raising as you duck under her arm and crawl onto her lap. 

“Don’t knock my ink over,” she warns, but her eyes are roving over your face, trying her best not to dip her eyes below your neckline, where your loose night shift is slipping down. 

“It’s not like you haven’t accidentally spilled your ink a few times,” you murmur, settling happily on her lap, running your fingers over her sharp cheekbones. She huffs, but she’s smiling, arms circling around you, pressing you closer. 

The lamp flickers in the back, and a sudden sense of unease pulls at Ava.   
  
“Don’t go,” she whispers against the curve of your jaw. You tilt your head in confusion.   
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say assuredly, your fingers soft and warm against her cheek, but the panic is starting to bubble deep in Ava’s chest. The lamp flickers again, and Ava remembers she’s only dreaming, the features of your face starting to melt, to blend into a confusing mix of nothingness, a memory so far away she can’t place it. 

“You’re leaving,” Ava says desperately, her hands coming up to cling onto your arms, gripping you tight and pleadingly. “Stay with me.”   
  
A howl cracks through the air, a sound that makes every hair on the back of Ava’s neck stand. Ava sits upright, holding you close to her chest, looking over your shoulder. 

The wolfbeast is back, its body more distorted than before, disjointed and misshapen, crawling up Ava’s open balcony with its shadowy tendrils. Before she can react, the shadows lurch towards and pierces through you with a thud. 

You look down just as Ava does, your blood splattered on her clothes, against her face, her pale green eyes wide with terror. 

“Ava,” you whimper, choking when blood is forced up your throat. You catch it in your hands, a distinct dark puddle of red. 

“No.” Ava’s voice cracks, and her shaking hands drift over you helplessly. “No no no-”   
  
The tendrils around you tighten and snatch you away from Ava’s grasp, swallowing you up into the darkness. Ava screams your name, stumbling over her desk as she runs, the wolfbeast falling off the balcony now that it’s got its prize. Ava just about _leaps over the railing—_

And she wakes up. 

The sheets beneath her are sticky, damp with sweat. Her ears are ringing, her throat feels so parched that she can hardly breathe, and for a long minute, Ava doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t recognise the room, furnished in a completely different way from her usual quarters in the Agency, or in the underground mansion. 

Slowly, achingly, she peels herself off the bed, grimacing as her clothes stick to her. She picks at it, trying to unstick her shirt from her skin, taking in a slow, ragged breath. 

Your scent fills her senses, flooding her. The migraine that’s been slowly but steadily pounding against the side of her head starts to fade. 

She stumbles to her feet, looking around at the soft, cosy furniture, the bedroom with actual personal items, your clothes draped over the back of a chair. 

She’s in your apartment. 

The memories come rushing back at once; you falling from the portal after three days of frenzied searching (in which Ava prayed to deities that she’s never believed in), dressed in strange, sixteenth century clothing. 

The sight of you, in a rumpled blue silk dress that Ava has only seen in her nightmares and her daydreams, always clad by a faceless figure, features shifting and morphing. The past nine centuries hit her with the force of a steam train, and everything falls into its place; there’s a solid, unchanging face to the mysterious human who haunts her distant memories, a face to the irritatingly burning ache in her chest on lonely nights. 

She leaves the room to find you instinctively, gait unsteady, mouth achingly dry, the remnants of her nightmare clinging to her mind like cobwebs. 

She wanders the tiny apartment, going aimlessly from room to room. She soon circles back to the bedroom, staring dumbly into the empty room she’d just left, staring, searching for any hint of you.

The apartment is empty. 

She sits back down onto the bed, gingerly, dragging her palms down her face like she can wipe away the anxiety and worry bubbling up inside her. She thinks of the one hundred and one possible places you could be, if you were out there somewhere all alone, if a Trapper was lying in wait for you, if a supernatural creature had caught sight of you, if you were lying alone somewhere, gasping, bleeding out, _hoping against hope that Ava would appear to help but she doesn’t—_

She covers her face and tries to breathe, fingers digging into her scalp, vainly attempting to slow her thumping heart, the waves of distress threatening to swallow her whole.

There’s the sound of a key rattling in the lock, and Ava gets up in half a second, tumbling out of the bedroom, uncharacteristically clumsy. 

You’re a lovely sight for sore eyes, backlit by the mid-morning light streaming in through the door, balancing on one leg as you try to unbuckle your boot. 

“You’re awake,” you smile, and Ava stands dumbly in the hallway, blonde hair tousled, her hands curled into fists. You scan her stiff figure, her wide eyes, and your smile drops. “Are you alright?”

She’s upon you before you can blink, and you nearly trip over your feet as she barrels into you, almost sweeping you entirely off your feet. She buries her face into your neck, and you’re just barely able to hold her, your hands sliding up her broad back. 

“Ava?” you whisper in confusion, and her grip on you tightens, like she’s trying to reassure herself that you’re real.   
  
“You weren’t here,” she rumbles after a beat, almost entirely muffled. 

Your heart sinks at the way she says it, the soft vulnerability hanging in the air between you and her. 

“I’m right here,” you murmur. “I went out to get breakfast. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“Wake me next time,” she demands, and you can’t help but give an endeared laugh, reaching up to trace the dark eye circles that have somehow found their way to her face. She leans into your touch, looking exhausted. 

“Bad dreams?” 

“The worst,” she admits surprisingly. Her eyes are tender and open when she looks at you, translucent sea green bright and hopeful. “Come back to bed with me?”   
  


* * *

  
Ava’s love is dyed in the darkest shade of jade, pupils blown out wide, gaze unwavering as she takes you in. Her rough hand drags up your thigh, guiding it around her hip, tugging you as close to her as possible, like she can’t breathe if you’re too far away. She presses her forehead against yours, noses sliding together, before going down your jaw, down your neck, greedily inhaling your scent like she’s trying to commit it to her memory. Like you might vanish for another nine centuries without a trace. 

Her hand on your thigh squeezes hard, but the other hand caressing the side of your neck is gentle, dry and warm, trembling ever so slightly. All of her actions are crying out; _love me, love me, love me._

And you do. 

You press just as hard, just as longingly into her touch, tilting your head to kiss those parted, breathless lips. You think you hear a choked-off groan, a sound so relieved yet full of yearning that you open your eyes to look at her. She’s lost all pretenses, surging eagerly into your kiss, eyes half-fluttering open because she can’t bear to take her eyes off you, not even for a moment. She devours you against the pillows, and you let her push you back into the sheets, your senses flooded entirely by her and only her. 

When she pulls away, she whispers your name with her kiss-swollen lips, her face framed in your hands. She looks so wonderfully dishevelled and so terribly, terrifyingly unguarded that you have to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. 

“Ava,” you say. She murmurs your name back at you, and you answer with hers. The two of you play this back and forth game until Ava is smiling, chuckling low and happy and teasing as she says your name again, rolling it over and over in her mouth like it’s her favourite word. 

“You’re here,” she marvels, green eyes gleaming delightedly. “You’re really here.” 

“I’m here.” You smile, and she tenderly kisses the corner of it like she’s afraid to disrupt its shape.   
  
“I think I called for you a hundred times before.” You tilt your head back to let Ava slide her lips down your throat, gentle and reverent. “I never expected to hear an answer.” 

“Oh.” Your heart crumples as you reach out to tug her into your arms. _“Ava.”_

“Say my name again,” she pleads hoarsely. 

“Ava.” She digs her fingers into your hips, pulling you closer.   
  
“Again.” 

“Ava.” She’s smiling, warm hands sliding underneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing the soft contours of your skin. You’re glad to see the sharp worry lines fade from her expression. “Are you feeling better?”   
  
“Yes.” She drags you into a slow, aching kiss, and hums against your lips, _“tempus omnia dabit.”_

“Nerd,” you tease, and she only gives a low laugh, nestling happily into you. You curl around each other, legs and arms entangled together, soft and safe and warm. 

Like the final puzzle piece easing into its spot, Ava’s world settles into place.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tempus omnia dabit — time will give everything 
> 
> tempus deux rereum — time, devourer of all 
> 
> thank you for reading! comments are very appreciated <3  
> come talk to me on tumblr @rosejellyy :)

**Author's Note:**

> here for holy water? me too. i think we just ran out. 
> 
> it's been a while since i've written sex scenes, so if i made you cringe a lot, i'm so genuinely sorry baby. also ignore all the time travel plot holes and history that doesn't match up, i literally just wrote this to be thorsty about buff female knights
> 
> comments are much appreciated <3 
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @rosejellyy


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